


A Little Respite

by wyntera



Series: A Little Place Called Home [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 18:44:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16938651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: Hanzo has been running himself ragged, mission after mission. Jesse suggests a little R&R.





	A Little Respite

“You look like death warmed over.”

“If I look anything like I feel, then yes, that is accurate,” Hanzo replies.

Jesse nods, already reaching for another mug. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Grateful that he need not exert any more energy than necessary, Hanzo shuffles forward and sinks into a chair at the dining table. If Jesse is surprised by his state--littered with scrapes and bruises, hair singed on the ends, covered in a fine layer of soot--he keeps it to himself. Hanzo supposes being in this line of work for as long as he has, Jesse is used to seeing fellow agents come back from missions in various states of disarray. Just as Hanzo has become accustomed to running into Jesse in the kitchens at all hours of the night, chasing away his insomnia with one vice or another.

Luckily tonight looks like a caffeine night rather than one for alcohol; Hanzo isn’t sure he has the patience to deal with a drunk cowboy right now. Not after a mission like this last one.

The kitchen is quiet as Jesse works, and when he presents Hanzo with a freshly-made cup of coffee made just the way he likes it, Hanzo thinks he could cry with relief. “Thank you,” he murmurs, not even bothering to wait for it to cool before drinking deeply.

Jesse hums and takes a seat across the table. “That bad, huh?”

Hanzo stares at the porcelain mug, the sides and handle marred by black smudges from his dirty hands. “There were casualties,” Hanzo says with a heavy heart. “Some civilians were injured in the blast. We could not reach them in time.”

The mission had gone just as planned, until it didn’t. By the time they realized it was a trap, their team had walked right into it. Reinhardt’s shield was the only thing that kept the six of them from being obliterated by the bomb no one knew was there. The ensuing firefight was vicious and bloody, with both Overwatch and Talon taking their fair share of hits. Only Talon had no qualms about using civilians as cover. Hanzo had spent the entirety of the battle fearing that one wrong move on his part would put an arrow into the heart of an innocent victim. His fingers have not shaken like that in a long time.

Even now he feels the anxious energy mixing with his bone-deep weariness like a particularly noxious cocktail. The caffeine might have been a mistake.

Hanzo looks up to find Jesse watching him, nursing his own cup. “You do not seem surprised.”

“I was listenin’ in on the comms earlier,” Jesse explains, gentle and understanding. “Sounds like you did everything you could.”

“It was not enough,” Hanzo replies.

Jesse nods. “Nah, sometimes it ain’t.”

One thing that Hanzo likes about Jesse--one of the many, many things that Hanzo likes about Jesse, things that are piling up faster than he can process--is that he is not one for sugar-coating. A lot of the other agents are idealistic, and maybe Jesse is too in his own way, but he has both feet planted firmly on the ground. On the ride home the Orca had been filled with justifications by Morrison and rationalizations by Winston, and their words had grated on Hanzo like sandpaper. Just this simple admission by Jesse means more than all their placation ever could.

Not that it makes him feel much better right now.

Hanzo abruptly realizes he has been staring blankly at the tabletop for the past few minutes and that he is being silently observed from across the table, the cowboy’s expression considering. “What?”

“When was the last time you had a decent night’s sleep?” Jesse asks. He holds up his hand to forestall the answer. “And I mean one where you don’t pass out from exhaustion or your sake. A regular sleep.”

A pause, then Hanzo barks out a rough, humorless laugh. “I am not sure I remember what that feels like,” he admits.

Jesse makes an unhappy face. “You’ve been runnin’ yourself ragged lately. You just came back from two weeks in Lesotho. What was it before that? Paraguay? Uruguay?”

“Both, and Brazil in between,” Hanzo replies, scrubbing at one eye. They feel gritty and dry. “I am told that I will be on limited duty for the next week. There will be time to sleep then.”

“Uh huh,” Jesse drawls. “Sure you will. Or you’ll throw yourself into training at all hours, or Winston will have some mission come up that requires your skills, and you’ll volunteer because you can’t say no.”

“I can say no.” At Jesse’s unimpressed look, Hanzo glares. “I  _ can _ .”

“But you won’t.”

Hanzo huffs. “What would you have me do? There are only so many agents walking the halls, if you have not noticed. If I am needed, I will be of use.”

“You ain’t goin’ to be of use if you collapse from exhaustion, sweetheart.” Jesse scratches the back of his neck and smiles a lopsided grin. “You feel obligated, cause they took you in. I get it. Have a bit of experience with the feelin’ myself.”

It takes Hanzo a moment to put the pieces together. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. With Blackwatch I don’t think I took time for myself for a good eighteen months. Never let on to anyone that it was too much. Ended up havin’ a bit of a breakdown in Gabe’s office; let me tell you, I don’t think he was expectin’ for one of his field agents to start bawlin’ their eyes out over missin’ Chicken Parmesan day in the mess hall,” Jesse says, laughing at his past self. “Point is, not once did it occur to me that I was allowed to ask for time to myself. But I was, and you are. You ain’t here as a servant.”

Hunching his shoulders, Hanzo looks away. “I do not think that. But I am here to make amends. If I am needed--”

“Then Overwatch would contact you. We do have communicators for a reason, you know. But you don’t gotta dedicate every wakin’ moment to this stuff. You’ll go insane otherwise. Everyone needs a vacation every now and then.”

Hanzo lets the word roll around in his head for a moment. Vacation is another foreign concept to him, much like holding down a normal job or being a law-abiding citizen. An interesting idea in theory but he is not sure how well he could apply it practically. Jesse is right; if he stays in Gibraltar, all he will do is train or find his way onto another mission. He could travel, but he already travels as it is. Seeing the sights, doing the touristy thing, does not sound at all appealing by himself. As loathe as he is to admit it, Hanzo thinks it sounds...lonely.

Indecision must show on his face, because Jesse’s considering look comes back. “You know,” he says, rotating his coffee mug on the tabletop, “I’m takin’ some time off, myself. Got a little ranch in the States that needs some tendin’ to. You’re welcome to join me.”

“You own a ranch?” Hanzo asks. Jesse has never brought up owning a ranch before. Actually, he rarely brings up anything about his whereabouts when he’s not on base or on mission. “I did not know.”

“Yeah. Guess I like having somethin’ private, just for me. Less people know about it, less likely I’ll get a bunch of unwelcome visitors. Friendly or not.”

“And you told me?”

“And I told you.” Jesse smiles and winks. “Reckon you know a thing or two about keepin’ a secret.”

The gesture never fails to make Hanzo warm under the collar, and this time is no different. Fighting a flush, Hanzo looks down at the dregs of his coffee. “I do not wish to intrude on your private affairs.”

“It ain’t intruding, it’s an invitation. Or hell, consider it a favor if it makes you feel better; havin’ an extra pair of hands around won’t hurt, if you don’t mind a little manual labor. Don’t have to, of course, you can just sit on the porch and soak up the sun if you want. Either way, it’d be nice to have some company. I want you there.”

Under any other circumstance, Hanzo would have declined out of principle, no matter how tempting the offer. Later it will occur to him that he should have put up at least some token resistance. But Jesse is a smart man with a devious mind, Deadlock’s ruthlessness and Blackwatch training. He probably planned to catch Hanzo with the offer right when he was at his most vulnerable. Plus this thing between them, the constant flirting, has made it increasingly difficult for Hanzo to say no to Jesse’s wild ideas. That’s the only way to explain how Hanzo finds himself saying, “As long as I do not have to wear spurs.”

Jesse laughs and gets to his feet. “No spurs, but I bet we can find you a hat your size.” He gets to his feet and drops his mug off in the sink. “I’ll work everything out with Winston and grab you a plane ticket. Meet you in the garage at eight sharp.”

He is halfway to the hall before his words catch up with Hanzo. “Wait, what? Eight? You mean, in the morning?”

“Yep,” Jesse says. “Leaving first thing tomorrow. Better pack tonight.” He knocks twice on the door frame and grins. “See you in the morning!”

Only when Hanzo makes it back to his room does he realize what exactly he has agreed to: at least a week with nothing but Jesse’s company to keep him occupied.

 

\---

 

Two flights carry Jesse and Hanzo from Gibraltar to Massachusetts to Colorado, where Jesse somehow has a truck waiting in long-term parking but no fee to pay upon leaving. From there it is a three hour drive into the Rocky Mountains. Jesse explains along the way that there are closer regional airports in case they need to make it back to Gibraltar quickly, but Hanzo is only halfway listening. He got a few hours of sleep the night before and then dozed on the plane, with minimal rest in the weeks before that. Between the steady rumble of the truck beneath him and Jesse’s low drawl, Hanzo does not stand a chance. He’s asleep before they leave the city.

 

\---

 

“Hanzo. Haaaaanzo. Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

Eyes opening to just a squint, Hanzo grumbles out a garbled, “Hrm?”

“We’re here.”

The driver’s side door opens and only then does Hanzo realize the engine has turned off. He sits up from his slouch against the door, trying to blink away the sleep from his eyes, and looks through the window. Then he inhales sharply.

He was not expecting the view.

Rolling hills of green and gold stretch off into the distance, intersected with fences and scattered with pine and spruce and the occasional rocky outcrop. Beyond them mountains climb upward, and above that endless blue sky. Hanzo opens the door and is hit by a sudden blast of cool mountain air that shocks him into moving. Body stiff from the long hours sitting, he stands turns in a slow circle to take in his surroundings. The same beautiful landscape is laid out in every direction. The farmhouse and the barns beyond are the only man made structures that Hanzo can see for miles and miles.

“Wow,” he murmurs, doing another spin and nearly tripping on his own feet in the process.

“Careful there, darlin’. You’re a mite too tired for fancy footwork,” Jesse says with amusement. He’s already grabbed both their bags and motions for Hanzo to follow. “Let’s get you to bed. There’ll be plenty of time for the grand tour after you’ve grabbed some shut-eye.”

“It is only the afternoon,” Hanzo protests, feet following without thought. “It would be rude to fall asleep now.”

Jesse scoffs and props open the screen door with his shoulder so he can unlock the wooden front door. “You’re here to relax, Hanzo. Knowin’ the schedule you’ve had the past month? You could probably sleep for two days straight.” The door opens with a quiet creak and Jesse ushers him inside. “No fussin’, now. Up the stairs, come on, chop chop.”

There is no arguing with the man, and Hanzo doesn’t have the energy to try. He doesn’t get a chance to look at his surroundings, trudging up the stairs and through the first door on the left. The room he’s directed to is cozy and has a bed big enough for Hanzo to stretch out in, and that’s good enough for him. Jesse tells him where to find the bathroom and drops Hanzo’s bag by the dresser. Hanzo is already flopping down on the bed. He can deal with all that later.

“Make yourself at home,” Jesse says, smile warming his voice. Hanzo hums, and thinks he says goodnight. A light blanket is draped over his body. He thinks he feels gentle fingers comb through his hair. Then blissful nothingness.

 

\---

 

Hanzo sleeps for eighteen hours straight. It is by far the longest he has slept without the aid of major injury and hospital-grade painkillers in his system.

When his body finally deems him ready for the real world, he wakes to sunlight and the sound of animals in the distance streaming in through the thin gingham curtains over the window he doesn’t remember seeing the day before. He feels warm and heavy, his head just barely twinging from the ache of sleeping far too much. A groan escapes as he stretches all four limbs out like a starfish. The need to relieve himself makes itself known, rather persistently, quickly followed by his rumbling stomach reminding him that going over two days without a decent meal is a horrible idea.

He wanders into the next room to take care of the former, then makes his way downstairs in search of Jesse. The house is simple and rustic in the style that Hanzo has come to associate with Jesse; lots of natural materials, well-made furniture, random decorations from his travels and interests that shouldn’t go together but somehow do. What he doesn’t find is Jesse.

The kitchen calls to him, though, and he pauses his search to locate a glass of water to gulp down. He swears he has not tasted water so pure and good ever in his life. Wiping his mouth, he glances out the window to the back and--

_ WHAT ARE THOSE?!? _

Hanzo is out the door and striding across the back yard in a matter of moments, jogging up to the fence and gaping at what he sees. Because in the pasture, grazing happily, are little cows.  _ Little cows! _

At least two dozen fluffy, furry cows are gathered in a loose herd just on the other side of the fence, none more than four feet high. At first he thinks they must be babies, but no, some of them have horns and they look fully grown. Just short! They are a variety of colors, black and red and gold and spotted, all with long hair that hangs in their face and poofs out all over.

Hanzo is smitten.

“Hello,” he coos, leaning with one hand on a fence post and the other reaching over so he can wiggle his fingers at them. “Hello there, hi, hi little ones! Come here! Come here, cows!” Most of them pay him no mind, but a few of the closer ones raise their heads to stare at him. “Yes! Come here, I am not going to hurt you! Come here, cow!”

That is how Jesse finds him ten minutes later, kneeling with his arm stretched as far as it can reach through a gap in the fence, the closest cow still a good five feet away and munching on a mouthful of cud. “Careful, now, that fence is electric,” Jesse warns.

“I saw the wire,” Hanzo replies, trying one more time to motion for the cow to come closer before giving up and standing. He rounds on Jesse, eyes alight with excitement. “You have little cows! Why did you not tell me?”

“I told you I had a little ranch,” Jesse says, and Hanzo has to smack his arm when he realizes the joke. “Hey now! Just ‘cause you don’t appreciate my humor…”

“Calling that humor is debatable.” His attention is drawn back to the fluffy animals. “What are they?”

Jesse joins him at the fence, weight resting on his elbow on one of the posts. “Miniature highlands.”

“I have never seen anything like them,” Hanzo says. He wiggles his fingers at them again, but they just go about their business like he is as interesting as a rock. “I was expecting you to have horses, or those longhorns you have talked about. Not this. Why miniature?”

“Well, I mean, look at ‘em,” Jesse says, waving at the little herd. “Cute as can be, ain’t they? I saw one at a fair a long time ago, and I promised myself if I ever had the means I’d get one. Then Blackwatch got found out and Overwatch collapsed, and I suddenly found myself with a lot of time on my hands and one of Blackwatch’s secret bank accounts.”

Hanzo shoots Jesse a look. “You spent Blackwatch money to buy a miniature cattle ranch?”

Jesse grins and tips his hat back. “Can you imagine the look on old Morrison’s face if he knew?”

That has them both laughing, their voices ringing clear across the open field. Hanzo takes a deep breath of the mountain air. He has only been here a day and been awake for less than an hour, but he can already tell coming here was the right decision. “Can I pet one?” he asks, just as his stomach makes a loud gurgling noise.

“Let’s get some food in you first,” Jesse says, leading Hanzo back toward the house with a hand on the small of his back. “Then you can pet as many cows as you want.”

 

\---

 

After four tasty turkey sandwiches between them, Jesse takes Hanzo out into the pasture to introduce him to The Ladies, as he likes to call them. The highlands are obviously enamored with their owner, as all it takes is a few clicks from Jesse’s tongue and they meander over. “They probably think I have some treats for them,” Jesse says as some of them bunch up around him. He scratches at their necks and behind their ears, giving them easy affection that they lean into. “Ladies, this here’s the handsome gentleman that’s come to meet you!”

Hanzo is too enchanted by the cows gathering around him to question Jesse’s wording. He reaches out and suddenly he’s petting the head of a shaggy cow the color of a rusty nail everywhere except her snowy white face. The fur is coarser than he thought it would be, but still soft and clean. “Ohhhhhhhh,” he murmurs as the cow snuffles at his wrist, then walks forward to butt her head against his thigh. “Ohhhhhhh, look at you!”

“That’s Lucy,” Jesse explains as Hanzo pets her carefully down the side of her neck and shoulder. “She’s coming up on three years. And that one there is Paisley, she’s nine months.”

Paisley is a pretty soft golden color not unlike the dried grass on the hills in the distance. She noses at his hip and doesn’t stop until he has his free hand buried in the hair on top of her head. “And they are already this big?”

“Lucy’s full grown already.”

“Hello Lucy, hello Paisley,” Hanzo coos at them. Another one is already butting her way between the first two, and Hanzo finds he does not have nearly enough hands for the job. “Hi there, I will pet you, too.”

“Strawberry, wait your turn--oh, watch out!” Jesse starts laughing as Hanzo pitches forward at a sudden push from behind his knees. A dark brown cow shoves at Hanzo, wanting her turn, and they all shuffle forward to follow him. “Bessie Bell, don’t go shovin’ people!”

“They are heavy!” Hanzo laughs. He checks the dirt at his feet to make sure he is not kneeling in any nasty farm surprises, then goes to his knees so he can pet the cows better. More of the cows press in, all happy to meet this new person that offers up pets for free. One of them--Bessie Bell, he thinks--sniffs at his ear and he squeals, pushing her back enough so he can pet at the soft skin of her nose. “Hello, Bessie! I will pet you, too.”

Hanzo tries to give each cow at least a little attention, asking for each one’s name as he goes. When he finally loops back around to petting Strawberry for a third time, he looks up at Jesse and says with absolute sincerity, “I love them.”

A myriad of emotions flash across Jesse’s face before he settles into a wide smile that lights him up from the inside. “Think they’re pretty taken with you, too.”

 

\---

 

Hanzo is pretty useless around the farm, mainly because all he wants to do is play with the cows. After a short and leisurely tour of the farm buildings, Jesse leaves Hanzo with a bucket of treats and the promise that he will not feed the biggest one, Bonnie, more than four. “She’s spoiled rotten,” Jesse said as he gave Bonnie a firm pat to her side, a fine cloud of dirt poofing out of her fur. “We’ve got to watch her girlish figure, ain’t that right, Bon-Bon?”

Bonnie just ignored him in favor of walking after Hanzo and the bucket that holds the tasty treats.

So while Jesse tends to matters around the house, Hanzo explores. The cows follow Hanzo around as he wanders the open pastures, strolling along the fences and over the rolling hills. He stays within the boundaries of the farm, not trusting that he can keep all the cows in the pasture if he tries any of the gates by himself, but Jesse’s property is expansive enough that he doesn’t grow bored. There is a gentle stream that cuts along the edge of one of the fields and Hanzo walks along the water’s edge, finds a large flat rock to sit on, and lets himself take it all in.

The air is clear and crisp, the sun warm and bright. He cannot hear fellow agents talking, or the clip of feet in the halls, or the constant hum of technology. Nor is there the hustle and bustle of the city outside his window, or the rumble of the Orca’s engines, or the sounds of fighting across a battlefield. There is a quietness around him that he can never achieve back in Gibraltar, and yet everything around him is teeming with life.

And then one of the cows lets out a loud, droning  _ moo _ , and Hanzo grins at the world around him.

 

\---

 

Near sunset, the cattle all perk up at the distant sound of feed hitting the trough, and as one they move toward the barn. Hanzo follows, his bucket of treats empty. The cows crowd up then settle into orderly lines on either side of the trough so they can have their dinner. Jesse throws another bucket-full of feed down before hopping off the end and out of the way. “Enjoy your walk?”

“I did,” Hanzo says, handing the bucket to Jesse. He gives Paisley one more parting pet before walking with Jesse toward the gate. “Your property is beautiful.”

“Thank ya kindly.” He holds the gate open for Hanzo and locks it with a heavy chain. “Did you only feed Bonnie four treats?”

“Of course,” Hanzo replies, fingers crossed behind his back. He cannot admit that it was next to impossible to say no to those big, dark doe-eyes.

 

\---

 

“Who takes care of the animals while you are gone?” Hanzo asks that night as he washes the dishes after dinner. He insisted after Jesse refused to let him help with dinner. “You are gone for months sometimes. The farm cannot run alone.”

Jesse takes a plate from Hanzo’s hands and towels it dry. “There’s a fella that lives about five miles down the way, Carlos. He’s got a little plot of land he raises chickens on. Just startin’ a family. I pay him to come up here every other day to check on the girls, make sure none of the fences are damaged, that nobody’s broken into the house.”

“Does he know who you are?” Hanzo asks, glancing over his shoulder at the outlaw.

“I doubt it.” Jesse chuckles, leaning against the counter. “Needless to say, if anybody asks, the name’s Jesse Holliday.”

Hanzo has to roll his eyes. “Doc Holliday? Really?”

“The man’s a legend, Hanzo, don’t you make fun of him!”

Hanzo flicks water at Jesse, snickering at this goofy man that cannot help but make him laugh. “I do not know why I put up with you.”

“Must be my dashin’ good looks,” Jesse drawls, cheeky as ever.

“I suppose eye candy makes you tolerable,” Hanzo replies, eyes glancing down Jesse’s body before he can stop himself.

Jesse laughs again, delighted, a faint dusting of pink spreading across his cheeks. “Why Mister Shimada, you’ll make a man blush.”

Hanzo says nothing to that, looking down at the suds in the sink, shocked by his own boldness. He’s never let Jesse catch him looking before, certainly never so blatantly. He is more careful than that. But just one day in this place has relaxed him so much. The defenses he usually has built feel stripped away. All the worries, the expectations, the pressure, all feel a thousand miles away.

Rather than let the situation slip to awkwardness, Jesse reaches over and shuts off the faucet. “Think I’m goin’ to turn in early tonight. Unlike  _ some  _ people, I’ve been up workin’ all day.” His body brushes against Hanzo’s as he passes, nothing short of deliberate, and he squeezes Hanzo’s shoulder before heading for the stairs. “Try not to get into any trouble, you hear? G’night.”

“Goodnight, Jesse,” Hanzo calls after him, watching him go.

He retreats to the guest bedroom soon after. Lying in bed and watching the play of shadows on the ceiling, Hanzo wonders how long until his resolve breaks.

 

\---

 

“Press the clutch all the way to the floorboard, then turn the ignition,” Jesse says.

Hanzo does as he’s told, needing to use his whole weight to push the clutch down. Then he turns the ignition and the engine makes a deep, desperate whine but does not start.

“Don’t worry, she always takes a few tries. Crank it and hold for about ten seconds at a time.”

“I will not break it?”

Jesse smirks. “Trust me, she’s tougher than that. Go on.”

It takes three attempts, but finally the old tractor revs to life. The machine vibrates enough to rattle his teeth and is a lot louder than Hanzo was prepared for. Jesse has to lean in close and talk in his ear to explain the gears. “You think you got her?” he asks.

“This is the brake, correct?” Hanzo says, pointing at one of the pedals. “As long as I can stop, I can figure the rest out.”

“Alright!” Jesse hops off the side of the tractor and dances back out of range, then yells, “Take her for a spin!”

Hanzo depresses the clutch like Jesse told him to, then shifts gears as he presses on the gas. The tractor lurches forward unexpectedly and Hanzo slams on the brake again. He can see Jesse laughing even if he cannot hear him over the motor. The cowboy sends him an A-OK hand signal.

His next attempt goes much better. Soon enough Hanzo is puttering around the field, gaining speed as well as confidence. The highlands move well out of his way when he rides by, more than used to the heavy machinery interfering with their grazing time. He has to admit that driving the tractor is a lot more fun than he expected. Riding high above everything else, feeling the power beneath him--it’s no motorcycle or sports car, but he’s still a guy that likes big toys. Plus with the tractor he doesn’t have to worry about pesky things like roads or laws. As if to prove the point, he throws it into a higher gear and charges up over a hill. Sure, the tractor’s top speed is only twenty-five miles per hour, but he still lets out a loud whoop of glee.

On his next pass by the gate, Jesse flags him down. He hops up onto the tractor and perches on the giant fender that arches over one of the back wheels. “Take me for a ride, doll,” he calls down, grinning from ear to ear.

No, the tractor is hardly a sports car, but Hanzo still feels a thrill driving around with a handsome man at his side.

 

\---

 

Jesse said that there was a path up the mountain, but Hanzo would call it less a path and more a suggestion of direction. “You have walked this before?” Hanzo asks, huffing, unused to the thinner air at this altitude. “I would think this would be painful for your bad knee.”

“I’m wearin’ a brace,” Jesse replies. He is also using a gnarled walking stick. Hanzo had teased him about it when he first brought it out from the depths of the closet that morning, but now Hanzo is wishing he had one for himself.

“Good,” Hanzo pants. “I would hate to have to carry you back down.”

“With the way you’re breathin’, I ain’t so sure I won’t be the one doin’ the carrying,” Jesse sasses back, grinning over his shoulder.

Hanzo grunts and prods Jesse’s ass with the random branch he picked up along the way. “Shut up and climb.”

They headed out first thing in the morning for some outcrop that only Jesse knows of, the perfect place for a picture, he said. The inclines are getting steeper and more uneven the further up they go, and even though Jesse is powering through it Hanzo can tell he is getting tired. “We’re almost there,” Jesse says, watching his steps. He pulls himself up over a jut in the rock and offers a hand down to Hanzo. “Careful, the rocks are loose here.”

Jesse isn’t wearing his glove. Their hands are warm despite the chill in the air. The path is no more or less treacherous the rest of the way, but Jesse doesn’t let go. Neither does Hanzo.

 

\---

 

That evening, Hanzo scrolls through the pictures on his phone while Jesse makes dinner. Jesse had been right; the outcrop was the perfect place for a picture. The whole valley had been lain out beneath them, Jesse’s little farm picturesque in the middle, the cows nothing but little specks dotting the land. The mountain range beyond the farm looks like it stretches on to infinity.

There are other pictures. He finds that Jesse snuck a few of Hanzo on the tractor, and one of him hugging a cow. The others from that day are ones Hanzo took himself: Jesse walking up ahead of him on the path, Jesse posing by the cliff face, Jesse smiling as Hanzo makes an attempt at a group selfie.

The smile is what does him in.

 

\---

 

After dinner, Hanzo coaxes Jesse out onto the porch. Overhead the stars shine in all their multitudes, no pollution to block their view, and the moon hangs bright enough in the sky that they need not bother with the light. The porch swing is wide enough for two, and Jesse slings his arm across the wood behind Hanzo’s back. They trade stories in the still night, their conversation wandering wherever it might take them, until they run out of words and simply sit and soak up each other’s presence. All the while Jesse’s thumb rubs a steady rhythm against Hanzo’s bicep in time with the gentle rocking of the swing.

“Why did you invite me here?” Hanzo asks, the soft question drifting in the silence.

“You needed a break,” Jesse says. “That much was obvious to anyone with eyes.”

“Your friends have needed breaks before, but you have not extended them an invitation,” Hanzo points out. He looks over at Jesse, his features vague in the dim light. “Why me?”

Jesse shifts his weight on the swing, the wood overhead creaking. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

“Why?”

The thumb on his bicep stills, then Hanzo can feel Jesse’s fingers stroke over his skin more deliberately. Their eyes meet in the darkness. “You know why.”

Hanzo swallows, throat suddenly dry. “You did not say anything.”

“Didn’t want you to feel trapped here, if you didn’t feel the same way.”

A snort escapes that Hanzo can’t contain, and he turns a bit more on the swing so he can look at Jesse properly. “I assure you, if I wanted to leave, I would.” His hand finds its way to Jesse’s knee, warm and solid beneath the denim. “What way do you feel, Jesse?”

He can see a flash of tongue where Jesse wets his bottom lip. “Like I’d give the whole damn farm to kiss you.”

Hanzo’s breath catches in his throat. He had known, how could he not with how they flirted and teased, but finally having it out in the open sends his heart racing. Hanzo feels caught in orbit, Jesse’s gravity drawing him in. Eyes fall closed of their own accord and he lets himself have the one thing he has wanted since the moment he laid eyes on Jesse McCree.

The kiss is slow and easy, so easy that one flows into the the next. Jesse brings a hand up to cup Hanzo’s jaw and adjust the tilt of their heads, and Hanzo lets out a low moan as metal fingers drag into his hair and a warm tongue curls against his. The sweet quiet of the valley makes him hyper aware of Jesse’s every breath, the prickle of facial hair, the scrape of his teeth and the press of lips that all ground him in this very moment. Jesse’s hand spreads wide against Hanzo’s back to draw him closer, and they both groan as they settle into each other.

Then another groan makes itself known, one that comes from neither of their throats but rather from the wood above. A warning creak. They have just enough time to open their eyes in realization before the swing chain breaks.

They land with a crash. Hanzo finds himself sprawled atop Jesse, the remains of the swing splintered and broken beneath their combined weight. He props himself up to look down at Jesse. The bewildered look on the cowboy’s face sends him into hysterics, a full-bodied laugh that shakes his frame and brings tears to his eyes. Jesse quickly follows suit and gives Hanzo’s hip a smack for the trouble. “You broke my swing!”

“I did not! You should have built it better!”

“Excuse you, this is fine craftsmanship.”

“Not anymore.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“I think it was a joint effort.”

They smile ridiculous grins at each other. What a pair they make. “Leave the mess for tomorrow,” Hanzo says, pushing himself to his feet and offering Jesse a hand.

Once standing Jesse brushes the broken bits of wood from his back and legs and looks down at Hanzo who is still very much standing in his space. “Ready to head to bed?”

Hanzo hooks his fingers in the loops of Jesse’s jeans and starts walking them back toward the screen door. “As long as it is yours.”

 

\---

 

Fingers trail in leisurely patterns around the slope of Hanzo’s shoulder, over the contours of his ribs, into the dip of his side, up over the jut of his hip, and down the curve of his ass and thigh, all before retracing their steps back up again. Over and over, trailing strokes and affectionate touches, exploring uncharted territory until every inch is traced. Hanzo lazes under the attention, his nerves singing with every brush and caress. His eyes barely open as he watches Jesse watching him. “Feels good.”

Jesse rumbles, leaning forward to kiss Hanzo’s shoulder, his lips more smeared against the dragon tattoo than pursed for a proper kiss. “Good,” he murmurs. “Want you to feel good.”

Oh, how he does. His limbs feel loose, his body pliant, his head floating somewhere in the stratosphere. There are many words Hanzo could use to describe Jesse, but now he must add  _ thorough  _ to the list. With Jesse wringing every ounce of pleasure from his body until he had nothing left to give, it’s a wonder Hanzo has the mental capacity left for pillow talk. He would feel inadequate if not for the fact that he gave as good as he got, Jesse rendered just as useless in the wake of their lovemaking.

Hanzo rolls closer and Jesse wraps his arms around Hanzo like it is second nature, like they have been doing this for years. Their legs tangle under the messy sheets. The curve of Jesse’s pectorals makes for a lovely place to rest his head. He exhales a deep sigh into the thick brown hair there, rubbing his face against it and wallowing in sensation. Above him Jesse chuckles and starts up his petting again, this time through Hanzo’s long hair from root to tip.

One thought nags at him, though. One small thought that hangs like a shadow over their early morning bedroom. “Jesse,” he murmurs, spreading his fingers out on the small of Jesse’s back. “Does this stay here?”

The gentle brushing does not waver for a second. “This ain’t Vegas,” Jesse replies. “And if I was lookin’ for a one night stand, I sure as hell wouldn’t have one with my best friend.”

A wide, happy smile stretches Hanzo’s face until it hurts. He buries it against Jesse’s chest to hide the reaction. Chances are Jesse can feel it anyway. “Good.”

 

\---

 

“Hold still, Paisley, I need a picture--no, no, come on, turn around, look here! Look here, come on!”

Paisley finally listens to Hanzo’s incessant finger-snapping and turns her head to look his direction. He snaps a few pictures with his phone while he has the chance, sighing when she slings her head around to scratch at an itch on her side. “That will have to do,” he huffs, zooming out to get a few more pictures of the whole group.

Pressure at his thigh grabs his attention. The hem of his shirt is caught between Lucy’s teeth and she is already working a hole into the fabric with little nibbles. “Lucy, no,” Hanzo chastises, pulling the cloth loose. A smudge of saliva stains his shirt. “Look at that. Did you want to give me something to remember you by?”

Lucy huffs through her nose and tries to bite at his pants.

“You silly girl,” Hanzo laughs, squatting down to give her pets. The cow sniffles at his hands and leans into the touch. “I want you to be good while your master is gone. I will do my best to make sure he comes back to you.”

Strawberry lets out a loud moo and flops down onto the ground so she can roll in the dirt. Hanzo will take that as agreement.

Behind him Hanzo hears the slamming of the truck door, then Jesse’s spurs as he approaches the fence. “All locked up,” he says when he’s close enough to hear. “You say your goodbyes?”

Hanzo tangles his fingers in Paisley’s thick fur and turns sad eyes up to Jesse. “I do not want to leave.”

“I know,” Jesse laughs. Bessie Bell comes up to the fence to slip her head between the stretches of barbed wire and Jesse reaches down to scratch around her horns. “I was expectin’ at least another few days, but when we’re needed, we’re needed. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Oh?” Hanzo asks, sending Jesse a hopeful look.

“Of course, sweetheart. I reckon it’d be awful lonely out here without you, now that I know what it’s like with you around.” Jesse smiles that sweet smile and shoots him a wink. It still makes Hanzo hot under the collar. “Besides, I think the girls have takin’ a shine to you.”

Hanzo sniffs and stands, strolling over to the fence. “I suppose someone should come with you to check on them.”

“And give them more treats than they should have?”

Jesse holds his hand over the gate and takes Hanzo’s hand to help him hop over the gate. He lands with a soft thud and twines their fingers together as they head for the truck. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Uh huh.”

“They are growing cows, Jesse, they need their treats.”

“You’re going to spoil them rotten.”

They only make it halfway down the long gravel drive off the property before Hanzo reaches over to take Jesse’s hand. Jesse smiles over at him, thumb tracing a familiar pattern on the back of Hanzo’s knuckles. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like that and want more, want to check out my art, or just want to chat, come on by my tumblr! You can find me under username wyntera. And if twitter is more your game, come and join me there, just look for @ThreeCatDesigns. Soon coming to Pillowfort.
> 
> And hey. Thanks.


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